Sometimes your son smacks his head on a kitchen drawer and it’s your fault and you’ve had such a hard couple of days that when he cries all you can do is sob with him.
Sometimes you’re astonished and thankful to remember a pitcher of cucumber-infused water sitting in the fridge this week, because that’s just what you need to control the swelling bump.
Sometimes you hold a washcloth to his head, still sobbing while he sobs.
Sometimes you realize you have to pull yourself together because your crying is making him panic, and you know from experience that crying hard creates heat, which makes you feel worse when you’re hurt.
Sometimes all you can think of is that you were watching a Daniel Tiger episode on asking for help when you’re frustrated, and it burns because that is supposed to apply to grown-ups, too.
Sometimes you let him have a binky when it’s not night-night time.
Sometimes you breathe, “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.” to calm both of you down.
Sometime you sit with a tear-streaked face, rocking your son gently, thanking God that your son isn’t panicking anymore and that you’re holding much steadier than you should be able to.
Sometimes you marvel that your son wants to be in your arms even though your impatience is what got him hurt.
Sometimes you remember why you’ll never ever give up on God, even in the middle of a dark week, because you feel Him there in the worst of it.